Been Away For Weeks...

Give someone everything and they know nothing. Punch the keys out accurately. Type directions to the gate the goats greet you, on the back of a whale fin, like the time you ran against the wind, on the span of an eagle's wing. It's never been the same since you refused to remove those shoes, I'm sorry but they have to go, like the inscription I wish was fiction, on my fob watch, clockmaker man, watch my watch chime lots, turn back the time to when I was young in my mind, when I smelled like pine, on the back of a ride-on in a dead orchid, it waited for rain and some love, you wished you were coral in a salty sea, be a jellyfish with me, be stainless steel, not silver.

We Just Want Sleep...

The poetry is, we are logs in a burning room, like moths to a flame, our hearts will be on fire again soon. We can exchange words, and have what they call, a conversation. Take it all, the pieces like bird seed in my hands, for the wingless who can't fly, but use their heads to stand.

March To Extinction...

You extended your hands, and stole the rays of the sun, you used them as spears on your hunt.

I Swallow Fire Flies...

I loathe the ocean, that swells in me, it drank my love, for its deep potion. Can we be King and Queen of tides, I lost my shirt on a raft, I swam back to the goldmines. I mined alot of bones, and insignificant things, I mined alot of undertones.

Vacation...

God was on holiday, when he created me.

He never took me seriously.

Pennies For Eyes...

You're a tiny star, and you're burning out. You are resilient with a curse, you are made from substance not known to man. I could never penetrate your pores. You sweat iced lakes, and pump blood faster than a machine. Everyone but you knows you won't succeed. You're a falling leaf. You are slow in your motion, your shoulders are weak. You are decay, hollow from the middle. You hurt yourself. You are bricks but no wall, you have the brain of all the wise that fell before you, but you know nothing.

Do you think god is watching? He can't see you, brittle leaf, falling in a forest.

The Playground...

Here we go again, on the merry-go-round with the slowest rotation. With the least amount of motion. The world spins quicker than every word spoken in anger, quicker than every word lashed with the brutality of emotion. While it turns everyone will die. We'll be left at the end of the ride with nothing to show for the time. But that's life.